


Pull Me Close Just to Disappear

by hopeless_romantic_spoonie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avenger Reader (Marvel), Character Death, Established Relationship, Reader dies, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24009397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_romantic_spoonie/pseuds/hopeless_romantic_spoonie
Summary: Loki isn't quite fast enough to save you, not this time.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	Pull Me Close Just to Disappear

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags!

It’s but a whisper of his name, hoarse and lined with pained hope, uttered beneath a cacophony of gunshots and wailing cries carried across a dusty battlefield.

But he hears it.Attuned to his name passing through your lips, Loki picks it out without pause from the barrage of unholy agony attacking his ears. He craves your honeyed voice bouncing against their expansive ceiling in exquisite rapture or giggled behind tooth smiles or sighed with contented weariness just before you rested peacefully in his embrace. He _knows_ the cadence of his name carried on your sweet breath. 

Daggered hands cease their brutal dance of death as wide eyes search faces gray, crimson, and muddy brown. Twisted into rage, torment, despair, none belong.

_There._

Tilted to the betraying heavens before falling into pebbled, ravaged earth. Hands curl above your chest that spills life onto the unworthy ground beneath your trembling body. That same life stains your lips, a perfect shade to match your hair that sticks to the nape of your neck with sweat.

Salt that the blade of his tongue knows intimately, tracing down the curve of your shoulder as he moved above you. Soft and pliant and wholly his as he claims you with every rock of his body and nip of his teeth into heaving flesh that pants his name into midnight waves of hair falling in a curtain about your flushed face.

No. no no _no_

Bodies fall without a passing thought. Blades flash mechanically. Leather soles eat up the distance in a voracious hunger that chews off pieces of his heart. What was once lovingly stitched together with your tender kisses and soft touches rent broken once again, chunks taken out and spat in his frenzied wake.

But he’s not fast enough. Limp and heavy in his arms, eyes dull and unseeing as he cradles you against his chest. Willing life into you as the battle rages on around him. But no amount of shaking or praying or hot tears dripped off a clenched jaw to cut tracks through the dirt muddying your beautiful complexion bring the stars back to your eyes. White-knuckles don’t bring you back to tease him for the disheveled mess of his hair, nor the wretched sobs that tear at his throat that you had lavished with playful nips just hours ago.

Never again.

Hands wrap around his shoulders and pull. The world fades to just your face, just his eyes on your chest to watch for just one more breath, and then more greedy hands cover your beautiful body to tug you from his hands. His hands that call daggers from hidden worlds slice at his attacker without thought as he snarls his heartbreak.

Thor. The imbecile refuses to back down, lowering his head and holding his hands out as he speaks nonsense. He has no reason to move from this piece of scarred earth you’ve painted with your blood. You aren’t in Valhalla. You’re right-

Gone.

Your small hand hangs limp, bouncing with each step, fingers curled slightly from where they reached out for him in those last moments of hope that he couldn’t fulfill. _Too slow._ The tips of your shoes disappear into the blasted vessel that carried you to this wretched place, stealing you from his line of sight by the soldier with care that he hasn’t earned to give you. No. You are-

were

his. His to hold, to love, to laugh with and tease and kiss and play with and feed and care for and bathe and put back together and hold and hold and

Stark steps in front of him, holding out a piece of paper. Coordinates.

“The rest of them.”

Short. Much shorter than the rambling rubbish that he usually forced upon those around him. Thank the Norns.

A glance, a flick of his wrist, and he’s there.

Vengence curls his cracked lips at their slack jaws and scrambling hands for the useless weaponry at their sides. Not fast enough. Never fast enough against skin and soul as hard as the steel in his red-rimmed eyes.

Your face, haloed by your hair and ethereal in repose, flashes in his splintered mind. Calloused fingers shift their grip on cold blades.

“For you, my love.”


End file.
